Also, I saw a continual use of the joining of two verbal items; they would be kept separate—and hence not causing disinhibiting to occur—until the proper moment. I saw various written items rotate, so to speak, very slowly, inexorably, like a solenoid clock as it ticks along. Then two separate verbal items (such as an ad for beer plus a street sign with the word CRESCENT DRIVE on it, to make up an example—these might remain separate and not be gestalted into one unit by the person for an indefinite time) would by inexorable degrees come together and mesh into an entity. At once, they would signal, and cause neural firing of an inhibited engrammed system in the person. He would not know why he suddenly did what he did; he would feel volition, and like a person under a post-hypnotic suggestion, invent in his mind a plausible explanation. That all this would form an enormous and complex world-clock, synchronized with itself, is evident. Where free-will enters, I saw, is that between the flashing of disinhibiting signals to a person, he is free to play, to do what he wishes; like a child at recess between classes, he can do whatever he wants—until he hears the bell sounding. And, as I perceived it, once the “bell” sounds, which is to say the disinhibiting signal, he must do what is required, since the total person (the autonomic nervous system) is engaged. I did not reason this out; I saw this. I also saw the Logos as it reached from our future into our present—which is the only world we have, our present—to make use of the arrangements of things. It had no power, no force or strength, to compel what was, but it could somehow arrange what the original efficient causes at the start of time had brought into being. The forward-moving force of time, enormously powerful as it was, seemed oblivious of the subtle arranging by the Spirit or Logos; it always seemed taken by surprise by the resulting combinations arranged: they seemed to thwart its rather blind purposes.
Also, I came to understand this. With all creatures other than man, instinct is the same for each individual of the species; all dragonflies are programmed alike. But, I saw, each individual human being is programmed uniquely, in terms of (1) the signals he can and will encounter during his life, and (2) according to the unique and special purpose set for him by his Creator. A specific destiny is thereby arranged for each person; when he is born, his destiny is in him, and all that is needed is to set him in motion. His Creator knows from the start everything which that person will encounter, and his Creator has by this engramming and signaling system made it possible to determine and control in advance how the person will go, along his course; it is not random; it is not accidental; it never lacks purpose—although, I saw, sometimes for extended time periods the person (any given person) must of necessity be placed on hold—he must mark time until the rest of the cosmos is ready, since everything has to be coordinated. If it were not this way, we would soon have no cosmos. This is why we sometimes have the deep and acute intuition that we are accomplishing absolutely nothing, and no matter how hard we try we can’t overcome what we call “inertia.” Actually, somewhere in the world other pieces of the puzzle must work out their paths so that we can join them; there is no other viable way to handle these things. It’s one endless series of D-Days, with each piece perfectly synchronized; but oh, the waiting until our moment to fire effectively, in an important manner, arrives!
Perhaps the most startling aspect of reality that I saw, and one which for nearly nine months I could not fully accept, was this: the only portion of the universe which is truly real is living creatures, such as ourselves. The non-living parts are merely structure, very much like the backdrop and artificial scenery in a formal play. We see these dead objects in terms of being as real as ourselves, but again, this is a necessary illusion or delusion placed on us in order that we be able to function in what we must do, which is to grow and develop according to complex plans obscured from our gaze. What exists around us, actually, beyond and above the sparks of life which we ourselves are, is in essence nothing more than elaborate but somewhat barren struts and support beams, literally so; they support the intricate signaling devices which flash messages—i.e., commands and assistance—to us continually, and also of course they afford biologically-essential life support. This is indeed a kind of ship we are within, but in shape more like a gigantic hollow cube, all sides of which surround us and fire information and instructions in rapid, elaborate sequence: we are seeing the physical body of the Creator, who animates all.
What I could not see—and remember I didn’t reason all this out; I saw it noetically—was the final goal or purpose of all this; that was beyond my ken. I saw a process, what seemed to be a temporary mode which we inhabited—I sensed that this is a stage, from which we go to another (see previous letters). We are being processed along, and as we go we are changed and informed; there is no ontology for us, no concrete being—it is all, as Bergson saw, a becoming. We are, in a way, passing through a Cosmic Car-Wash, and a thousand brushes and brooms and vacuum cleaners are scrubbing us, refining us and purifying us, and, very important, teaching us. This process, along which we all travel in unison, produces what seemed to me permanent alterations in us; by us, of course, I don’t mean our physical bodies, but the spark inhabiting these bodies. But also, we seem to be carrying out, at the bidding of these engrammings, complex tasks, which is why people often get a sense of God’s Divine Plan of which they are a part. It seemed to me that in addition to being changed we are working our asses off in the service of some over-all structure, purpose, goal or need; perhaps what I saw is continual creation, and we are involuntary workmen located here and there like a million bees about the structure, hammering and sawing for all we are worth, the blueprint not being visible to us (but only to the Architect). Our instructions are somehow within our heads. . . . I have the keen intuition, probably a correct one, that our original set of engramming, the many programs laid down and then inhibited at birth, are continually being updated and refined during sleep; while each of us sleeps, he is taught through the dream-state: it never seems to occur to people, by and large, why it is that universally mankind has sensed that dreams deal with the future. The reason is obvious; it is in the future that the tasks which the dreams inform us about are to take place.
Also, I’m positive, the night’s dreams reinforce original training vis-à-vis the disinhibiting signals about to be encountered. Shortly (a day or so, a week maybe at the most) before you run into a particular ad showing canned tuna fish with a drawing of a pretty girl, to which you are to respond with a complex series of acts, you will have a dream, only vaguely remembered, that by reiterating the original training eliminates any possibility that you will not respond when the signal from your environment comes your way. As you and I know from reading S-F stories, one signal missed, and an entire alternate universe would come into being—hardly an economical or orderly way for God to handle things. (You’ll find early stories of mine such as “Adjustment Team” and “The Commuter” dealing with post-screwup changes; they’re always bad news to the Creator.) In connection with this thought, I submit to you that this entire cosmology which I’ve presented to you in these pages bears an organic relationship to my entire body of writing, to my basic theme of What is reality? I think I have at last transliminated—i.e., coughed up into consciousness—my subcontinent which has given rise to all my work and to all my theories and thinking.* You are the first and so far only person I’ve told it to. I hope you’re not displeased.